The Aftermath
by ourgunsandhorses
Summary: The aftermath of the infamous prank. Eventual Remus/Sirius


**I don't own anything. Warnings for implied child/spousal abuse.**

The first thing Remus does is cry. It's almost frightening, the way his shoulders shake and his hands cover his face and muffle his sobs. It's scary because they've never seen Remus cry before. Not an out-of-control, proper kind of crying at least. He got a bit sniffle-y when he realized they knew he was a werewolf and his eyes welled up more than a little when they told him they were animagi. His face is alarmingly bruised and cut up behind his bandaged hands and he looks more broken than they've ever seen him before.

Madam Pomfrey bustles over, tugging the curtain closed between Remus and the others. She looks down at them harshly, "I think you should leave." She's developed a sort of motherly affection for Remus over the years. She knows what they did- what Sirius did.

Remus curls up on his side like he used to when he was younger, the sobs wracking his body and making his healing ribs ache. He hears James and Peter and Sirius walk out, the door closing solidly behind them and the horrible thoughts rise back up in his head. _They can't be trusted. They don't care about you. You're a joke to them. You're a joke. They don't need you. They never needed you. _Remus lets his hands drop from his face and one broken sob echoes in the otherwise empty room. He thinks of his mother, with soft amber eyes and softer hands that would smooth over his back when he cried when he was younger. She would hold him close and whisper that everything would be okay. She would tell him that he was strong and brave and she would protect him. He thinks of the way his father looked at him the first time he transformed, standing behind the thick glass panel in the hospital, like he was something to be feared. Remus knows he's a monster, he's known all along. He had foolishly held onto the hope that his friends would never find out.

Over the last five years, Remus has had a lot of fears. He's been afraid of rejection, hatred, violence, all of the things that made up his childhood. Betrayal; that's a new one. This betrayal hurts more than every time his father hit him. It hurts more than every transformation, every broken bone and jagged cut. He _trusted_ Sirius. He let his guard down for once in his life; let people in, and all he got was betrayal. Remus, who always thinks ahead and plans, never saw this coming.

…

Any other morning, Remus would be heading to the Great Hall. Not this morning. He sits in bed, waiting for Madam Pomfrey to bring him breakfast on a tray. The cut on his cheeks stings, but not as much as the fact that he can hear Sirius laughing in the hallway when Madam Pomfrey slips through the door.

Madam Pomfrey sets the tray down next to the bed and tends to his wounds. Remus doesn't eat; his stomach is too twisted in knots. He knows what's coming now. His mother will come to the school, trying to hide bruises under long sleeves. His father will be with her, watching him warily with disappointment in his eyes. Then, there will be meeting with the ministry. Remus will probably have to leave school. He'll be lucky if he's not sent away. He'll be lucky if he ever sees his house again, the little house with the chipping blue paint and the overgrown hedges that block the downstairs windows and the back porch where he used to sit and read.

Remus pulls his knees to his chest, ignoring the painful twinge in his side. Madam Pomfrey spreads more healing salve on a gash on his back and mutters a few words, sealing the bandage loosely. She stands and gently presses him back against the pillows, her hand lingering on his shoulder. She looks like she want to say something, but she turns and walks away.

Remus feels frozen in time. He sits still, staring at the other end of the room for hours. Other students filter in and out, some of them curiously peering around the corner of his curtains. When they see his cuts and bruises they all back away. _Good_, Remus thinks. _Stay away from me._

…

It's afternoon when McGonagall walks in. The sunlight slants in through the windows, giving the nearly empty room a warm, golden glow.

Remus looks up at McGonagall, feeling a sinking in his stomach when he sees the look in her eyes. There's pity, perhaps? Regret, definitely. She opens her mouth, then snaps it shut, pressing her lips together. She sits down on the edge of his bed, one hand gently patting his knee, "Your parents are here to see you."

Remus says nothing, he just wrings his hands together and ducks his head.

He can tell when his mother is coming because her footsteps are rushed, like she's running to see him. As an afterthought, he hears his father's footsteps, heavy and damning. His mother's footsteps stop and he looks up.

She's standing at the foot of his bed, one hand tightly gripping the metal bars. The other hand is raised to her mouth and tears are spilling out of her eyes. "Oh, Remus," she breathes as she looks at all of the bandages woven tight around his arms and chest.

"I'm sorry," Remus says, ducking his head again when the tears form, hot and heavy in the corners of his eyes. One of them rolls down his cheek and splashes against the back of his hand. It soaks through the bandage to his skin. He squeezes his eyes shut tight, willing himself not to cry in front of his father, and McGonagall.

"Son," his father rumbles.

He looks back up, swiping impatiently at the tears under his eyes. His father is standing at his mother's side, one hand on her hip. The other is in his coat pocket. He shifts awkwardly and Remus sees his mother press her elbow ever-so-slightly into his ribs. Remus' father clears his throat and steps forward. He pulls his hand from his pocket and Remus flinches. Guilt seeps through his stomach when he sees the look on his father's face.

"I'm sorry," Remus says again, his voice quiet and small.

His father turns his hand over, opening his fist. A small, tinsel-wrapped chocolate lies in his palm, the wrapping a little crushed from bouncing around in his pocket. Remus stares at it.

"I know, uh," His father clears his throat. "I know you like chocolate."

Remus reaches out to take it and his mother's heart breaks when she sees the tentative way he moves; like he's used to having things taken away from him. Remus's fingers close around the chocolate and he pulls it close to his chest, staring down at it.

"Thank you," Remus chokes out. He feel stupid, getting so emotional over a little piece of chocolate, but nothing has been going right, and he hasn't seen his father in months and maybe this is what it feels like to have your father comfort you.

…

His parents leave after a few more minutes, promising to come back tomorrow. Remus' stomach twists because he knows that tomorrow he will probably meet with the ministry and they will decide if he can stay at Hogwarts. He also knows, is absolutely positive, that he will be expelled. No other school will take him, so maybe his mother will teach him. Or maybe the ministry will decide that he is too unsafe to be left unguarded, and they will take him.

He tries to sleep that night, but all he can dream about is cruel laughter, cold grey eyes, and his mother crying.

**A/N: I'll be posting the second chapter soon, depending on the response this chapter gets. Reviews are always appreciated :)**


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